


Monster Within Me

by rozabellalove



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark fic, M/M, TWBingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 03:09:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rozabellalove/pseuds/rozabellalove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale has set himself on a path to self-destruction. He’s convinced that he can build up immunity to wolfsbane, something that would be of great help to his pack’s survival. But the toxin is slowly killing him, and he has become addicted to the release of the pain that it brings. When Scott enlists Stiles to help him take care of Derek, Stiles only agrees reluctantly. He’s never cared much whether Derek lives or dies, but as time goes on he learns that he has feelings for the Alpha, and sometimes opposites attract.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: General spoilers up to the end of S2  
> Warnings: Underage Stiles (16), whumped!Derek, hurt/comfort, angst, addiction, psychological issues, self harm, this is not a fic where Derek and Stiles just instantly fall for each other and have a magical bond (as much as I like those fics, this just isn‘t one of them).  
> A/N: Many thanks to LJ user Laraneia for her beta skills. This was written for teenwolf_bingo.

It had started out as necessity. Building up a tolerance to wolfsbane was the only way Derek could hope to begin to combat the teams of hunters he knew would be drawn to his ever-growing pack. Their most effective weapons were those laced with distilled essence of the poisonous plant, and he couldn‘t risk those weapon hurting his new pack. As Alpha he had to be the one to take the hit, to experiment on himself until he found out if a werewolf could at least tolerate the poison. His hope was that he could build up a tolerance to it, so that the hunters‘ weapons would have less of an effect.

So he started small, half a petal crushed into cold, clear water. The pain, excruciating at first, yielded to a softer afterburn, a sensory overload that left him raw and edgy, liable to change without noticing, to snap first and think later. It took three days for him to shake off the effects. When he was done there were claw-marks gouged in rotting black floorboards, old furniture lay in tatters on the floor, and he was alone in the middle of it all. Senses dulled and body weakened, he fought the urge to seek comfort, knowing that the way to true strength was through endurance alone.

Once he was completely healed he forged ahead with his plan. One full petal brought him to his knees, fangs drawn and claws buried deep into the ground. His howls brought the pack clamouring to his door, but Scott kept them back. He’d had to confide in someone, as much as it went against his nature, and Scott was the only one mature enough to handle it. Plus the younger wolf had easy access to medical supplies through his job, just in case it all went wrong.

As soon as they left he settled in to wait for the pain to subside. Pain was something he’d been taught to embrace and endure as a boy, and the lessons had not fallen short of the mark. He deserved every agonising cramp, every sharp stab that thrilled through his veins. For everything he had done over the years, for letting that Argent bitch take his family away, for killing his own uncle, turning a bunch of high-school kids into slavering monsters... He deserved so much more. This was his penance, and his chance to redeem them all, to save them through his own sacrifice. And if he died in the attempt? Maybe the world would be better off without him.

~*~

Scott hadn’t revealed Derek’s plan to the rest of the pack. They went through two full moons without him there to reign them in. The first was the hardest, but they had all begun to learn how to control the change, or to at least keep hold of some of their sense of humanity, and luckily no-one was hurt. Nevertheless Scott was worried about what this experiment was doing to Derek. He hadn‘t seen the Alpha for weeks. Whenever he tried to see Derek he was met with threats of violence if he dared to come too close.

He’d promised Derek he wouldn’t tell the other wolves what their Alpha was up to, but he hadn’t promised not to tell anyone else, hadn’t promised not to talk to his best friend. 

Stiles had never been Derek’s biggest fan. In fact, Scott was pretty certain that his best friend hated the Alpha. Every time they were together there was some kind of tension that Scott just couldn’t get a handle on. Stiles would retreat into sarcasm and bitching, while Derek would become more withdrawn and sullen, snappier than usual. There was something between them that Scott had never been able to figure out. It wasn’t quite hate, but animosity maybe. Secretly he worried that they were both jealous of the amount of time the other spent with Scott.

He was resigned to the fact that they would never get on with each other, they were just too different for that. Still, Stiles was a good guy, and surprisingly insightful sometimes. He would understand why Scott needed his help, and he would probably think of something that Scott himself had never considered. There was also the fact that Stiles was still human, and the only one that Scott could talk to about this kind of thing. Allison had distanced herself from him, and his mom had no idea what was going on in his life. It had to be Stiles.

“Yo Scott!” Stiles caught up to him at lunch after the morning’s classes. They’d been separated by most of the teachers, who were all fed up of them talking through class. Lunch and Phys. Ed were the only times he got to talk to Stiles at school these days.

“Hey, man. How was your weekend?”

“Boring as hell. I just don’t get why I have to go with him to these police conference things. It’s not like I can’t be trusted alone at home.” Stiles grumbled, loading up his tray with fatty goodies.

Scott grinned, “Yeah, ‘cause you’ve been _so_ trustworthy before…”

“It was one small party,” Stiles frowned at him, “and hardly anyone came anyway.”

Scott’s grin just widened, “Yeah, but we drank all the liquor in the house, and your dad had to replace three windows and buy a new TV.”

Stiles smiled, “Oh yeah… it was a good night.”

They took their trays to a spare table and sat opposite each other. The lunch hall was busy, but people gave them space anyway, maybe sensing something different about Scott, maybe not wanting to be seen socializing with Stiles. Either way, they had a little privacy to talk. 

“Listen, Stiles, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Scott started.

“Yeah? You gonna tell me why you’ve been spending so much time up at the Hale place the last few weeks. You and Derek going to be having a litter of cute little wolf-pups? Who’s the mommy and who’s the daddy? Do I get to be godfather? I’ve always wanted to be the cool uncle to a bunch of little rugrats. Take them to the movies and sneak them in to a-”

“Stiles!” Scott cut in, “I’m serious, I need your help.”

Stiles put up his hands defensively “Woah, ok, ok. Shoot.”

“It’s Derek -”

Stiles’ mouth hardened into a thin line, “What’s he done this time?” He sighed.

“Nothing too bad, yet, I hope.” Stiles grimaced at him, but Scott carried on regardless, “He’s only hurting himself.”

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Stiles’ dug into his food, grinning heartlessly and treating Scott to the sight of chewed up fries coating his teeth, occasional bits dropping out of his mouth to land on the table.

“You’re disgusting,” He frowned, but he couldn’t help grinning a little too, “Seriously. I need your help, man. He’s trying to immunize himself to wolfsbane, He’s _eating_ the stuff.”

“Eating it?” Stiles stopped shoveling food into his mouth for a second. “Isn’t that like… really bad.”

“Yes!” Scott almost shouted, “It _is_ really bad. It could kill him.”

“And the world would have one less rabid dog to deal with.” Stiles looked down at his food, though, unable to meet Scott’s eyes. “One less Alpha biting our friends to make himself a pack. Why don’t you just let him get on with it?”

“Stiles, I know you don’t trust him, but he’s saved my ass more than once. And the pack? Those people you called our friends? None of them gave a damn about me or you until Derek turned them. Sure, Erica might have said she had a crush on you, but none of them were our friends before Derek turned them. They are now. They’re our friends, and without Derek to lead us, the pack won‘t survive another year, Stiles. We‘ll be hunted and killed for what we are. The Argents aren‘t the only hunters out there, you know.”

Stiles put down his fork and pushed the plate away. “Yeah, I know, I know. But what makes you think I can do something about it?”

“I don’t know, I just know I can’t do it on my own. Derek made me swear not to tell the pack, but he didn’t say I couldn’t tell you. I gave him my word I wouldn’t tell Erica, Boyd or Isaac, and a beta’s word to his Alpha is like a bond. I can’t break it, as much as I might want to.” Scott prodded at his food, moving it around the plate without actually eating any of it.

Stiles rubbed his hand over his eyes and folded his arms, leaning back in his chair before locking eyes with Scott. “I am _so_ going to regret this.”

Scott grinned, “Thanks, man. Promise I won’t ask you to help me out again for at _least_ a week.” He slapped Stiles on the arm, laughing as Stiles grimaced in pain. “Meet me at the Hale place tonight.”

~*~

The room was dark and cold, each torn pair of curtains was replaced with thick fabric that blocked out the light from the small, barred windows, and kept him safe from anyone passing by through the woods. He sat, curled in on himself, in a ball in the corner. The darkness was better, made it easier to bear the pain, to hide the beast inside himself from the world.

The full moon was a fortnight away, but the wolfsbane flooded his bloodstream and made it hard to remember which form his body was meant to take, made it easier for the monster to overwhelm him and take away the remaining vestiges of his pale humanity. His claws were extended and they dug sharply into the meat of his thighs, the pain was nothing compared to the knives stabbing his brain and heart with every breath. His body was wracked with tremors and cold sweats, that left him weak and anxious. 

Someone was howling close by, it sounded human though, a pale comparison to the noises made by Derek and the pack when they hunted together in the woods. A high, keening noise that seemed to sync with the bouts of tears that kept spilling, no matter how hard he tried to stop them. He was drained, exhausted by pain, and savagely hungry. Nothing but Aconite flowers and water had passed his lips for days after he’d discovered that food only seemed to aggravate the toxin. Having a full stomach simply seemed to delay the full effect of the toxin, letting it enter his system more slowly through the food, breaking down in lower doses, and keeping him down for longer.

Erica had stopped coming after the first three or four weeks, Boyd and Isaac had given up much more quickly. As their Alpha his commands still carried power, even in his weakened state. They heeded his commands reluctantly, and he also knew Scott was out there keeping them in line. From time to time it crossed his mind that leaving them out there alone to face the world was dangerous, but this was just more important to their future survival. He couldn’t stop, even if he’d wanted to.

The pain drew him down in a spiral of blackness, enveloped him with open arms and tore away the sins from his soul. Purifying agony pulled at him over and over again, ripping apart his body and mind, putting him back together, dimmer, but somehow cleansed. It became easier each time, each higher dose was welcomed, and each time the sharp stabs receded to dull aches he felt the loss keenly. Each time black gave way to a little more gray, he sought out the pain again, blocking out the world until it was no more than a thought at the back of his torn mind.

~*~

Scott was walking in front of him, babbling on about how they needed to help Derek. Stiles couldn’t quite understand the one-eighty that Scott had done on the subject. There was a time; it seemed like forever ago, when Derek’s actions had disgusted Scott. Killing Peter and denying Scott the chance to try and reverse the werewolf curse, creating the pack, biting Allison‘s mom. Scott had hated the man once.

Yet somehow Derek had gained Scott’s approval. Maybe it was something to do with Scott accepting him as Alpha, whatever it was, it was creepy. Stiles had only been half joking about Scott taking care of Derek’s little wolf-babies or whatever. It honestly seemed like the pack was becoming more like Scott’s family than his mother, and as much as Stiles tried not to resent the bond Scott had with them, he was starting to learn what it was like to lose his best friend and have nothing else in his life to replace him.

It was almost completely dark by the time they reached the old Hale place. The woods were creepy at night, and the grey wooden front of the half-destroyed house loomed before them, looking like every nightmare Stiles had ever had. Scott’s face fell as they got closer, Stiles could hear a quiet echo of a howl, weak and thin, but to Scott’s heightened senses he knew it was as if Derek’s cries were screams of misery.

“He’s crying.” Scott’s jaw clenched and Stiles put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing and urging him forward at the same time.

“Come on. Quicker we get in there the quicker we can stop this.” He marvelled at the strength of his own voice. They were about to go and confront an Alpha werewolf, one crazed with pain and hell-bent on sacrificing himself. Two boys against one demon. The odds weren’t exactly in their favor, no matter how strong Scott was getting these days. 

The front door was open, and Scott led them to another at the back. Stiles expected it to be locked, but it wasn’t. The pained cries were louder now, but there was still a thin quality to them, a feebleness that Stiles couldn’t seem to associate with Derek Hale. They went down a flight of stairs into the basement. Scott stopped in front of a huge steel door. 

“He’s in there?” Stiles looked at Scott with raised eyebrows, wondering how exactly he was supposed to be of use. “I can’t get in there. You’d have been better off with Boyd and Isaac, man. I’m not strong enough to help you break that thing down.”

Scott laughed, “No, dummy, I‘ve got a key, I bring him-”

Derek’s voice interrupted him, “Who’s there? Scott?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Who’s with you? Two heartbeats, two of you, voices… heard you. Laughing. **Laughing at me?** ” Something heavy crashed against the door, and Stiles fell back against the far wall.

“Fuck this, man. I am not going in there with him. He’ll fucking kill me.” He had one hand behind him against the wall, and one buried in the fabric at the back of Scott’s shirt.

Scott grabbed his arm and turned, holding him steady, “He’s chained up in there. Made me do it after the first couple of times, said he didn’t want to be a danger to me.”

“Chained up? So what was that then?”

“He must have thrown something at the door.” Scott was reaching into his pocket for the key, and Stiles was halfway to the stairs before he turned back.

“I’m sorry, man. I can’t help you with this. I thought I could, but I’m not the right guy for the job. I’ll get Boyd or Isaac or someone, fucking animal control, I don’t know. Not me, though. I can’t do this.”

He always underestimated Scott’s new speed. Scott’s eyes flashed yellow, and he was there, blocking the stairway before Stiles could get out. “You _can_ do this, okay? You’re stronger than you let on, dude. I need you.”

“But why me? I’m only a fucking human. I haven’t got any superhuman strength or speed, any special senses. I’m just human.”

“Exactly.”

~*~

The sound of the key turning in the old steel lock set his teeth on edge. Scott was on the other side of the door, but he wasn’t alone. The kid was with him, Derek could smell his scent on the cool drafts of air that crept in under the old door. The scent was typical teenage boy: grease-control face wash, sweat, unwashed clothes, burrito, jeep upholstery, too much deodorant, and something else. Fear.

The beast in Derek reacted with excitement, the boy was scared of him, he’d teach it how to be terrified. Derek fought it, anchoring to the one emotion Stiles never failed to inspire in him, extreme irritation. The kid was the most annoying human he’d ever met. For the first time since he’d started ingesting the Aconite petals, Derek won out over the monster inside. 

The door scraped on its rusty hinges as Scott shoved it open, and by the time it was fully open and Scott had managed to drag Stiles into the room, Derek was fully back in his human form. He huddled in the corner, pale and sweaty. He still wasn’t exactly sure that he wasn’t hallucinating Stiles’ presence, since he hadn’t seen anyone but Scott for weeks, but the scent was stronger now, and over the years he had learned to trust his nose far more than his eyes. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Scott’s werewolf musk overpowered the fragrance of the various products he’d used that day, each werewolf had a unique scent, and Derek could identify each of his pack without having to see them. The musk wasn‘t something humans could usually pick up, although around the full moon it often became stronger, and sometimes sensitive human females had picked it up on him in the past. 

Individual human scents were harder but as he spent more time with them he began to identify them more and more with their particular odors. The one with Scott was definitely Stiles. The scent of Stiles’ fear was something he had encountered before; in fact it was the first scent he associated with the boy. He remembered Stiles’ words, “Just so you know, I’m not afraid of you.” But the boy’s scent had given him away, and Derek hadn’t had to say a word before he’d admitted that he was afraid. 

Maybe that was what had annoyed him the most about Scott’s best friend, the kid just babbled away when he was scared, he jumped at the slightest sound and faked bravado to compensate. He made Derek feel like the monster all the time. Admittedly, Derek didn’t do much to counter Stiles’ fear, in fact he encouraged it. The pleasurable memory of slamming Stiles’ forehead into the jeep’s steering wheel made him grin, and the feeling of the smile on his face for the first time in so long brought him back into the moment. Scott was shaking his head, and he could practically feel Stiles thinking about the teeth Derek was displaying. He closed his lips and wondered what he looked like to them. He knew that he had lost muscle over the last few weeks, he probably looked gaunt, and the tremors didn’t help. He could move his arms to reach for the things Scott had left him, the ones he hadn’t thrown across the room in anger, but his legs were stiff and locked underneath him.

He tried to stand, but couldn’t quite make it. Scott was there quickly, lifting him up. The wolf in him reacted badly to needing the younger wolf’s help, he snarled without meaning to, baring white fangs and flashing a red glare at him. Scott ignored it, he was used to it now, and the state Derek was in, Scott could have easily overpowered him anyway. Stiles’ reaction was much worse; the fear-scent drowned all the other odors that covered him.

“I’m sorry, I.. can’t!” The boy fled. The wolf took over, changing Derek completely, sapping the last of his energy and leaving him howling in Scott’s arms.

~*~

It was hard to breathe, maybe it was the fact that he was running blindly through the woods, and had been since he’d fled the Hale house. Maybe it was the fear that clutched at his chest and threatened to stop his heart. He reached the jeep and clambered inside, breathing in short, sharp pants, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He wanted to start the engine and get the hell out of there, but he’d promised Scott a ride home, and if he didn’t calm down he was going to crash the car.

The half hour wait was the longest of his life, but finally he caught a flash of yellow eyes in the woods, Scott changed back just as he emerged from the tree line. Stiles opened the door to let his friend jump up into the passenger seat, and started the engine as soon as Scott was inside.

There was silence for a minute, as Stiles drove through the dark woods. Scott took a breath, as if to say something, but didn’t speak.

“Is he…?” Stiles kept his eyes focused on the road.

“He’s ok.” Scott sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Stiles let out a relieved sigh, and wondered why he even cared about Derek’s wellbeing. “Cool.”

Scott didn’t say much until Stiles pulled up outside his house and he jumped out. Stiles thought he’d got away with it until Scott leaned back through the door, “You’re coming back with me tomorrow. Not taking no for an answer.” And then he was gone, and Stiles was cursing and punching the steering wheel

~*~

The next night Scott managed to get Stiles inside the basement despite Derek’s constant growling. Stiles’ presence seemed to ground Derek somehow, the company of the human appealed to the human in Derek, giving him the strength to overpower the monster inside.

Stiles refused to get too close to Derek, but he helped by handing things to Scott when he was unable to grab them himself, and more importantly, he talked. It was stilted at first, little comments as Scott washed and fed Derek, until he regained enough serenity to resume his usual chatter. By the third night Stiles was babbling away with ease, forgetting about Derek and regaling Scott with tales of his antics in the few classes they didn’t share, and gossip about their friends. 

Despite his reservations, Stiles even helped Scott in trying to convince Derek to give up his crazy idea and let them unchain him. It didn’t work. Scott tried everything he could think of, begging, pleading, making out that the pack was suffering without the Alpha. Nothing swayed Derek; he was adamant that he had to forge ahead. His only compromise was that he would let Scott and Stiles visit him again, but on his own terms. 

They’d fed him up as much as they could, but Derek was about to start his next trial, taking enough wolfsbane to make him dangerously ill. If his theory that he could build up a tolerance was right, then he would be ill, but the effects should be pretty much over within a week or so. He gave Scott permission to visit him in seven days, and Scott laughed at him. “You think you’re in any state to give me orders?”

Derek pinned him with a red gaze, the effect marred somewhat by the dark shadows under his eyes, “I’m still your Alpha.”

Scott gathered his stuff together into his school bag and hustled Stiles out of the room, muttering “He won’t be Alpha for long if he keeps this up.”

“I heard that!” Derek’s voice called out over the sound of the steel door sliding closed.

~*~

Derek awoke, shivering, in a pool of black vomit. It took him a few minutes to open his eyes, even the dim light in the room stabbed in through slitted eyelids at first. He forced himself to open them all the way until the pain receded. The slick, dark vomit had dried in crusty patches over his bare arms, and he was too weak to wipe it off. His claws were extended, and he could feel the tips of his fangs where they rested against the inside of his mouth.

The blackness came and sucked him under, pulling him into dreams that were clouded with visions of faceless children, burning in flames that consumed the old Hale house. His mistakes were played out in sadistically intense visions. Peter’s face, scarred at first, and then cleansed of disfigurement, morphed into the monster that was inside himself now. Peter’s mouth smiled slowly and drowned in a torrent of blood. Somehow Derek knew that mouth still curved up into a one-sided smile, even buried as it was.

Kate Argent’s laugh surrounded him, piercing through thick smoke and the pained cries of his burning family. Her eyes flashed with lust and her mouth opened wide as she screamed her laughter at him. She was sitting atop a pile of bodies, arms folded and legs crossed, tapping the toe of her soft leather boot against a blonde head that rolled to face him. Erica’s lifeless eyes stared up at him. Scott, Boyd, Isaac, Jackson, even Lydia and Stiles were there, buried deep in the pile. They whispered to him, unformed threats and pleas, he couldn’t save them. 

He awoke again, this time from a sea of blood, a tidal wave that washed him up onto the cold, hard floor of the basement. The black vomit was gone, and Derek wondered if he’d dreamt it, until he saw the food laid out within arm’s reach. It was a little stale, and Derek realized he must have been out for at least a day since it was left. Scott must have disobeyed him and come early. He wanted to be angry, but couldn’t quite get up the energy it took to feel so strongly. 

Scott wasn’t exactly a master chef, but the food was enough to sustain him, and that was all he cared about anyway. There would have been little point putting himself through this torture only to allow himself the pleasure of good food, drink, sleep even. He was still half convincing himself that this was about the pack’s needs, about making them stronger and more resistant to being hunted. But underneath it was the truth, unavoidable once his addled brain seized on it, he was killing himself slowly. His hands shook as he ate. He ignored the creeping purplish blackness threading through his veins. He deserved it all and more.

~*~

Stiles’ hands shook as he tried to slot the key in the lock. The first night he’d come with Scott, Derek’s weak howls had been unearthly, they’d left him scared and heartbroken all at the same time. He wasn’t used to feeling sympathy for a werewolf, for a creature that could rip his head off with barely a second thought. Tonight he was still scared, being alone with a sick werewolf wasn’t exactly top of his list of favorite things to do with his evenings, but he was also worried. The house was too quiet. Derek usually called out when he heard them coming, tonight he was silent.

The door slid open slowly, and at first Stiles’ eyes refused to adjust. It was dark in there, but he knew where Derek was chained up. He managed to make out a few vague shapes in the room, and stepped into the darkness, weaving around the piled up boxes and furniture until he reached the corner where Derek lay. The blackness gave way to hues of grey, and he caught sight of Derek’s body. 

The room was filled with the stench of sickness, and Derek wasn’t moving. Scott would have dropped to his knees without hesitation, ready to help the Alpha, but Stiles wasn’t Scott. He wasn’t the one who acted first and thought later. He was the one who used his mind before his heart. Neither one was really functioning properly right now, but he did know that Scott would kill him if he left Derek for dead. 

Scott had made him swear to go and look after Derek. He’d protested at first, pointed out that perhaps having someone with some actual affection for the man should do it instead, but Scott couldn’t do it. There was a new group of hunters in town; he and the pack had to keep them away from the Hale house. As much as Stiles hated to admit it, Scott was right, the pack needed Scott, and Derek needed Stiles. 

It wasn’t like this was even the first time he’d looked after the werewolf. For someone with supernatural strength and agility, the man got himself into some pretty bad states, getting shot by hunters, paralysed by Kanima venom in the swimming pool. Stiles couldn’t quite figure out why it always ended up being him that took care of Derek, he had plenty of better things to do with his time. Like trying to get Danny to notice him. Not that he was attracted to Danny; he just wanted Danny to want him. Life was complicated.

With a pained sigh, he dropped to his knees. Up close he could see that Derek’s chest was moving, taking in shallow breaths. The Alpha was unconscious, though. His skin was a sickly grey, and the veins of his arms were raised and black. Stiles forgot his fear and tore at Derek’s shirt, lifting it up as high as he could, exposing Derek’s torso. He was relieved to find that the poison hadn’t reached Derek’s chest yet, although it was creeping up along the skin of his belly. He took a deep breath and leaned over to lift one of Derek’s eyelids, only the whites were visible, and Derek didn’t react to the touch.

Scott had told Stiles that werewolves didn’t really feel the cold; they ran a little hotter than most humans. But Derek’s skin was cold to the touch, and his lips were almost blue. Stiles knew almost nothing about caring for someone, let alone when that someone wasn’t entirely human, but he did know that no one should be so cold. He hunted through the boxes until he found an old, moth-eaten blanket to wrap Derek up in. It was a start. He debated over whether to try and make Derek drink some water, but decided not to risk it in case he choked. 

He waited almost an hour, pacing nervously and toying with his phone, on the verge of phoning Scott, when Derek finally came around. He heard a quite “Whuh?” and slid to his knees again, next to Derek. The Alpha was shivering, which Stiles thought might actually be a good sign; his body was trying to compensate. He wasn’t fully conscious yet though, eyes fluttering without fully opening, he reached out and grabbed Stiles’ arm surprisingly hard for someone that looked so weak. The heat of Stiles’ skin seemed to give him a strength and speed that Stiles hadn’t anticipated. Acting on instinct, Derek pulled him into a tight embrace, wrapping himself around Stiles’ body and nuzzling an icicle cold nose into the back of Stiles’ neck. Too afraid to struggle, Stiles spent the next few hours lying tensely wrapped in Derek’s grip and muttering about how he hated being the little spoon.

~*~

Something felt strange. Derek tried to suss out the situation without opening his eyes. Someone was there, a strong heartbeat sounded in his ears. There was a warm body pressed against him, skin searingly hot compared to his own.

Stiles’ scent filled his nostrils, and Derek was surprised to find that it was not as off-putting as usual. Maybe it was because the usual trace of fear that accompanied it was absent, or maybe it was because as he fully came around he realized he was holding onto Stiles so tightly that his arms were stiff with the effort, he wanted the kid close for some reason. His nose and lips were pressed to the back of Stiles’ neck, and when he opened his eyes, the tips of his eyelashes fluttered against the boy’s skin. 

Slowly, Derek opened his arms, and the movement seemed to stir Stiles, as if he’d been dozing too. Just for a second, Stiles tried to curl back into his arms, pulling them back in, fingers lacing with Derek’s own. Something about it was comfortable and easy, but he wasn’t about to lose himself in the charms of another human’s warm, enticing body. He let go of the boy and rolled away until he was on all fours, surprised to find his body so much more co-operative than it had been in the past weeks.

“Where’s Scott?” His voice was rough, and he knew he had been out for too long, “and what the fuck are you doing cuddling up to me?” On all fours like this he was closest to his animal form, and his body wanted to use the anger to change, he fought it.

Stiles’ eyes opened abruptly and he too rolled away, scrambling to his feet at the same time. “Me? _Cuddling_ you?” He let out what seemed like a nervous laugh. “That’s rich. I think you‘ll find it was _you_ who made _me_ into your own personal hot water bottle.”

The Aconite toxin made it hard to remember why he shouldn’t rip the boy’s throat out. His claws extended without thought, and dug into the rotten wood of the floorboards. The boy’s heartbeat sped up enticingly, and Derek knew his eyes were flashing red as he met Stiles’ gaze. The kid fled, and if it hadn’t been for the chains holding him in place, the Alpha would have chased him down without a second thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's addiction to wolfsbane spins out of control as his relationship with Stiles begins to blossom. Scott and Stiles are dragged into Derek's self-destructive downward spiral, can they save him from himself?

Stiles stood outside the Hale house in the dappled sunlight of the early afternoon. It was finally the weekend, and he didn’t have to come out here at night, heart leaping in his chest at the slightest sound from the creepy woods before he even got in the old house. He wouldn’t have been there at all if Scott hadn’t forced him. After the last visit, when Derek had used him first as an electric blanket and then tried to have him for a chew-toy, he’d sworn he was never going back there. Scott had done some pretty impressive pleading, cajoling, flattering, and just plain old begging, until Stiles had said yes. He’d promised Stiles that he’d spoken to Derek, and the Alpha had sworn not to hurt him. He’d agreed on the condition that he went in daylight, and that Scott had to go the night before.

With the Alpha out of commission, Scott was taking on more and more responsibility within the pack. He just couldn’t look after Derek anymore. Scott had tried to sway Derek from his plan one last time, but the Alpha could be stubborn when he wanted to. Stiles wondered why Scott had bothered. If Derek wanted to kill himself then that was his business. 

He steeled himself and went inside. For once, Derek was awake and lucid as Stiles entered the basement. A little light came in through the gaps in the fabric covering the small windows at the top of the room, and the smell of sickness and death had dissipated somewhat since his last visit. Derek was sitting up and facing the door, looking in Stiles’ direction, but not quite meeting his eyes.

“I’m… sorry.” Saying it seemed to cause Derek more pain than the Aconite poisoning had.

Stiles couldn’t help his response, “Wait, am I in the wrong place?” He turned around in a complete one eighty, feigning confusion, “Wrong werewolf lair? ‘Cause there’s no _way_ Derek Hale just apologized to me. No way.”

Derek’s jaw set in a hard line, “Don’t make me say it again.”

He held up both hands in mock surrender, “Nope, wouldn’t dream of it. I’m just going to treasure it,” he tapped his chest, “in here.”

Derek made a huffing sound that Stiles could almost have mistaken for a laugh, if the guy was even capable of laughing. The only thing he’d ever seemed to take pleasure in before was slamming Stiles against doors and steering wheels. Still, it was good to see that he wasn’t in too bad a mood.

“Are you going to let me get on with this today?”

Derek finally met his eyes, he looked less strung out, less wrecked “I promised Scott I wouldn’t hurt you. That good enough?”

Stiles stepped closer, “Well it’s a shitty way to say thank you, but I’ll take it.” Up close he could see the flush beginning to return to Derek’s skin. “You look a little better. Have you finally stopped taking the stuff?” His eyes flicked up from Derek’s forearms to meet his gaze.

“None of your business.” Derek’s jaw clenched again and Stiles considered telling him he looked like a pouty kid having a tantrum. He would have gone for it except he valued his jugular in one piece.

~*~

Derek was fed up of Scott and Stiles questioning his judgement in this. He was the Alpha, goddammit, and okay, maybe Stiles wasn’t part of the pack but it was hard not to think of him as one of them. Sort of like a family pet. Derek chuckled at the thought, and Stiles looked up from the plate of food he’d been laying out.

It was the last thing he’d expected, but these moments with Stiles were such stark contrast to the toxin-induced blackness he’d surrounded himself with. Maybe it was a remnant of the cloudy dream-hallucinations, or maybe it was real, but the times when the kid was there were tinted golden in his memory.

Derek was under no illusions about whether Stiles actually wanted to be there or not. He’d made it more than clear with his snide comments, his attitude. Yet the boy kept showing up anyway, bringing food and water, submitting to being cuddled to within an inch of his life. Derek had finally deigned to admit to himself that cuddling was really the only word for it. Although snuggling came in a close second. He consoled himself with the knowledge that it had been a one off. It was just a simple need for body heat, just his body seeking the comfort of another. Nothing he could do about it. Nothing at all.

Stiles handed him the plate, and didn’t flinch when their fingers brushed. Derek ate quickly, hoping in vain for silence. As soon as Derek’s mouth was full enough that he couldn’t respond, Stiles launched into nervous chatter. It was meaningless babble really, schoolyard gossip and idle observations about Stiles’ friends. 

Yet it was oddly soothing. Although he barely knew half of the people involved, Derek found himself listening and nodding. He forgot where they were and why they were there. For a blissful few minutes there was nothing but the simple life of a teenage boy. There were no hunters, no pack responsibilities, no wolfsbane. It was so easy to get lost in it, enveloped in the simplicity. Stiles’ deepest worries and fears were like ripples on the surface compared to the deep waters Derek found himself swimming in time and again.

Then there was the small matter of getting himself cleaned and changed. Stiles had seen him half-naked enough times that Derek wouldn’t usually have a problem just stripping in front of him, but this was different. His body was different. The weeks of being chained in the basement, flooding his system with barely tolerable toxins, starving himself as much as possible had weakened him, left him thinner, even stained his skin with a horrible greyish tint that was only now beginning to fade after a few days off the stuff. Scott had seen him like this, but that was a necessity, and oddly it hadn’t bothered him at all. He barked an order at Stiles to turn around, and the kid did it, but not without the requisite bitching.

“Come on, man. It’s not like I _want_ to watch you get naked or something, but how the hell am I supposed to help you if I can’t see you?” He complained to the wall.

His clothes hit the floor one by one, and Derek shivered, “Just hand me the water, and keep your eyes on the wall.” He tried for commanding, but he was too tired to put much into it. Stiles kept his eyes averted all the same, and Derek was grateful. 

Once he was cleaned up and dressed again it was time for Stiles to go. Part of him wanted to ask the boy to stay, but he knew he couldn’t have it, whatever it was he wanted from the kid. All he could hope for was the cleansing pain of what he was about to put himself through once more, and maybe that this dose would finally burn away the regrets that tormented him once and for all.

~*~

Stiles sat on the porch of the Hale house, staring out into the woods. His phone was in his hands, and he twisted it around in them fretfully. Would Scott come if he called? He wanted to call Scott and lie to him, tell him that he was fed up of babysitting a suicidal werewolf, that he’d like to go back to his old life thank you very much. It wasn’t true, though. He was tied to this place now, and the bitter fact was that he had somehow come to care for the man that was chained up inside.

He sat and waited a couple of hours, unusual as it was for him to sit still, it came naturally this time. As the sun went down and left him feeling a chill he heard the beginnings of a howl from the Hale basement. Derek was still set on destroying himself with this crazy scheme, and Stiles could no longer say that he didn’t care one way or the other. He’d told Scott so many times that the world would be a better place with one less Alpha werewolf in it, and maybe that was still true. It didn’t change the fact that his own world would be a darker place without the man in it.

Scott was still his best friend, nothing had changed there, but it was lonely, being friends with a guy who had so much more in his life than just you. Stiles’ dad was the local sheriff, which kept him out of the house most of the time, even though he had plenty of deputies, he was just a hands-on kind of guy. It was hard not to feel alone when everyone around you had more important things than you to deal with. 

As he sat on the rotten porch, watching the sunlight fade to grey through the tree cover, he realized that Derek Hale was the only person who really _needed_ him. Maybe that was why he was having such a hard time leaving.

~*~

The boy should have left, but Derek could still sense him. The wolfsbane clawed at him from inside, threatening to rip him into a hundred pieces, or forge him anew, but Stiles’ presence so close seemed to keep him from drifting away into the black depths of unconsciousness. His scent was all over Derek, even though they hadn’t touched each other. It was on the clean clothes Stiles had brought him, on the bedding Stiles had changed, lingering in the air.

With every breath he took, Stiles’ scent kept him rooted to this place. With it came memories of small kindnesses, performed by a guy that had no more love for Derek than Derek’s own actions had inspired. He hated himself for it. Hated the monster he’d become, a monster that had nothing to do with his animal nature. Every decision he made brought only pain and death to those around him. It had started with his poor judgment in getting close to Kate Argent. Everything had stemmed from his relationship with her, the fire that had destroyed his family and his home, the years his uncle Peter had spent in care, disfigured and trapped in his own mind, Laura’s death. All of it was on him, for letting himself believe he could have something as simple as a relationship with a human. He hated himself for it all, but he hated her more.

She’d caught him, chained him up and tortured him, as if she thought physical pain could ever compare to what she’d already done to him. His single regret about her death was that he hadn’t been the one to deliver it. He hoped wherever she was that she was suffering for what she’d done, at least as much as he was.

~*~

Eventually Stiles had made his way home. There was only so long he could sit on a cold porch and listen to Derek’s pained cries without going back in and risking his own life.

Derek had told him not to come back for a week. He’d warned Stiles that as he upped the dose of wolfsbane each time, it would take longer for him to regain control of himself. The week seemed longer than it ever had before. Coming home each night to an empty house, Stiles found his mind drifting back to the Hale house, wondering how Derek was, wondering if he’d even be alive by the time Stiles was allowed to go back there. 

He saw Scott once that week outside of school. Even Scott was looking tired these days, pack responsibilities lying heavily on young shoulders. Scott had seemed confused by Stiles’ worry for Derek. Had even laughed at first when Stiles brought up the subject, “Yeah, right. _You_ care about what Derek’s doing out there?” He’d grinned, as if Stiles was in on the joke.

“Yeah. Yeah I do.” What was wrong with him that Scott had seemed so shocked to hear that he cared about someone else?

“Ok!” Scott had put up his hands defensively, “It’s just that you’ve never exactly been Derek’s biggest fan. Even after we found out that it wasn’t him who changed me, that he wasn’t the one attacking people. You’ve never liked him.”

There was nothing to say in reply. It was true, he’d never been happy about having Derek in their lives before. But things were slowly changing, and Stiles had a feeling they would never go back to the way they were before.

~*~

Stiles never slept much, and as Saturday morning dawned he was already awake and packing a bag full of supplies to take with him. He was in the Jeep before the sun had even fully come up, on his way out to the woods to find out what state Derek would be in.

He was worried about what he would find, but also oddly excited. The feelings combined to make him jittery and anxious. It was strangely quiet as he entered the Hale house and made his way down to Derek. There was no noise coming from the basement, and the screech of the door on its hinges sounded louder than usual in the silence. Even with the door open, Stiles couldn’t hear Derek moving around. He rushed inside.

Derek lay on the floor surrounded by glossy black vomit. He’d clawed away his own shirt, and Stiles was terrified to find that the blackness had begun to permeate the veins on his chest now too. He acted without thinking, unlocking the chains and dragging Derek away from the corner he’d made into a little nest. The Alpha’s body was far too light, skin cold and clammy, but his heart was still beating, he was still breathing. Stiles slapped Derek’s face, and then jumped back, hoping not to get clawed when Derek woke up. There was nothing, though. Derek’s eyelids didn’t even flutter.

The blankets were covered in crusted dark vomit, so Stiles wrapped Derek in his own hoodie. Normally it would have been too tight, but Derek had lost so much weight that it fitted him pretty well. Stiles pulled them both out into the hallway, as far away from Derek’s nest as he could manage. He slumped down against the wall and dragged Derek between his knees, so Derek’s back rested against his chest, hoping his body heat would help the Alpha begin to recover. 

He had to dial Scott’s number three times before Scott finally picked up.

“Wh- what is it, man? I was sleeping.” Scott’s voice was rough with sleep.

“Fuck sleeping!” Stiles bit out, “Get your lazy ass over here, Scott. Derek’s fucking… I don’t even know. I think he’s dying.” His voice gave out and he whispered “Scott, I think he might be dying.”

“Are you sure?” He sounded more awake now.

“I don’t know; he’s not waking up. He’s cold. The poison, I think it’s close to his heart. I don’t know what to do, tell me what to do.” He was rocking Derek’s body slowly, “Please, just tell me what to do?”

“Hold tight, I’m on my way.” The phone clicked and Scott was gone. Stiles rocked Derek’s body back and forth in his arms without thinking, and waited for Scott to arrive.

~*~

Scott cycled from his house to the animal medical centre and to the edge of the woods in record time. He ran through the woods faster than he’d ever thought possible, carrying supplies in a pack over his shoulders. He reached the Hale house quickly and registered the sound of Stiles quietly talking to Derek, little encouraging phrases that didn’t mean anything but maybe helped reassure Stiles himself, if nothing else.

The back of the house was dark, but his new senses made it easy to see the door. He opened it and looked down the stairs. Stiles was sat at the bottom, arms and legs wrapped around Derek’s unconscious body. He was rocking slowly and muttering “It’ll be okay, Scott’s here now, it’s gonna be okay.”

Derek’s heartbeat was weak and slow compared to Stiles’. Scott hit the bottom of the stairs and fell to his knees next to them. “How long has he been like this?”

“I… I don’t know.” Stiles shook his head, “Since I got here. He hasn’t woken up. What are we going to do, Scott? What the fuck are we gonna do?” Stiles’ knuckles were white where his fists were bunched around the hoodie Derek was wearing. 

Scott hesitated. “This is worse than I thought he’d be. I’m not sure we can-”

Stiles grabbed Scott‘s collar and pulled him closer, fear giving him an unusual strength, “Don’t say that, dude. Think of something. Anything. He can’t die, okay? He just can’t.”

“Okay, okay. Uh… well… remember when he got shot?” An idea was forming in his mind.

“Yeah?” Stiles’ grip was still tight on Scott’s shirt.

“He burned the wolfsbane and it seemed to sort of…”

Stiles perked up, “Yes! Yeah, it cleared out the stuff from his veins. Will it work like this?”

“I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot.”

Stiles nodded fervently, and Scott realized that he was desperate; he’d try anything to save Derek. He left them huddled on the floor and went to get the rest of Derek’s wolfsbane. There was only a little left, less than there should have been if Derek had followed his plan to the letter. He’d taken too much, Scott couldn’t know why but he thought maybe Derek was trying to move things along more quickly. He hoped like hell it wasn’t a deliberate attempt to push the self-destruct button.

The flowers were old and dry enough to burn quickly; Scott ground the ashes into a fine dust and mixed it with water while trying not to inhale any of the smoke or ash. He’d snagged a syringe from the medical centre; it was small, but big enough to hold most of the mixture. If it worked then they could get more and give Derek another shot. He just hoped it wouldn’t add to the toxins already in the Alpha’s system, that instead it would counteract them and help to heal Derek.

Scott debated whether to inject Derek in the muscles for a slower release, but one look at the grey pallor of the Alpha’s skin made him realize it was just too late for that. He found a vein in Derek’s upper arm and gently pressed the needle through the skin, flooding Derek’s veins with the mixture. Now they just had to wait.

~*~

The fog in his mind lifted quickly, there was fire in his veins, burning and stabbing at him from inside. Every nerve was singed and raw, screaming at him to make it end. And there was something else, a coldness flooding through his system, he couldn’t make out the source, but it was welcome. The fire that ravaged through his blood was suddenly cooled, doused by the unstoppable flow of icy numbness.

Derek floated free of the pain at last, unable to hold onto why he’d wanted it in the first place. All he could feel was the cool lightness of release, and then, as he was able to focus more, two warm arms around him. There was a bright light, and an overwhelming feeling of comfort. He wondered whether this was heaven, even though the feeling nagged at him that he didn’t have a place there, or a family that would be happy to welcome him into their arms.

~*~

“I think it’s working!” Scott was shining a light into Derek’s eyes, but Stiles was focusing on the dark veins standing out in stark contrast to the paleness of his skin. Slowly but surely they were clearing. Derek still didn’t exactly look like the poster child for physical health, but he was coming around.

The blue tint to Derek’s lips receded, they flushed pink again as he sucked in a shocked gasp of air. “What…what’s going on?” Derek muttered

Stiles’ first impulse was to shake him and scold him for what he’d put them through. Unfortunately for Derek, Stiles didn’t have much in the way of impulse control. His fists were still bunched in the fabric of the hoodie, and he shook Derek as hard as he dared, “You asshole! You nearly freaking died! Do you know what you’ve put us through? What you’ve put **me** through?” Derek just looked stunned, “Do you even care? 

“Better off without me anyway.” Derek slumped back. His eyes were closed but he was still awake as he lifted a hand to capture Stiles’ own, holding on tightly. 

Scott’s gaze darted down from Derek’s face to their linked hands. He took Derek’s pulse at Derek’s free wrist and kept his mouth shut, although there was a slight twist to it that hadn’t been there before, not quite a smile. He raised his free arm to wipe his tears in the sleeve of his shirt, avoiding Scott’s silent gaze.

~*~

Derek was off-kilter for weeks after. Scott and Stiles had tried to persuade him to come out of the basement, but he wanted to stay down in the dark where he could keep avoiding the world.

It was stupid, he’d nearly killed himself. The experiment, if that was even what it had been, was over. He’d learned more about wolfsbane, about what the werewolf body could tolerate when forced to ingest it. More than that he’d learned a couple of things about himself. He was weaker than he’d thought, even now he was aching to give himself a dose of wolfsbane, to disappear into the deepest blues and lose sight of the world around him. 

There was something else he’d learned in his self-destructive months, he wasn’t alone anymore. He’d lost his family, and the pain of it was a deep ache that never really went away, but he’d found a new one. Scott had been there for him, done everything he said, even held the pack together. The pack themselves had tried to visit him; he’d heard Scott keeping them away from time to time. And then there was Stiles. 

The boy was scared, but he came anyway. He had no love for Derek, and yet he’d saved Derek’s life. Sure, Scott had the medical know-how, but without Stiles’ constant visits Derek knew no-one else would have found him before he slipped into the blackness for good. Even more surprising was the fact that Stiles just kept coming. Even after Scott had tired of trying to pull him out of his depression and now only came once every few days, Stiles still came almost every day. 

At first Derek had tried to put him off coming, but the guy was persistent. Derek still made comments to him every time, didn’t he have better things to do, wouldn’t his family miss him, Stiles just laughed and jabbered away, telling Derek about his days, making silly jokes.

Slowly Stiles’ visits became the highlight of Derek’s day. Derek’s health was improving almost daily, he was regaining the weight he’d lost as his appetite improved, and with each visit Stiles looked a little less worried. It made him oddly happy to see Stiles smiling again, even if the constant nervous joking still grated on his nerves from time to time. 

The days when Stiles couldn’t make it out to see him were darker. He still felt the need to punish himself, and without anything to distract him the need only became stronger. He realized after a while that he actually missed the kid, unlikely as that might once have seemed. The last thing he wanted was to need someone else, to rely on someone for his own happiness, but whether he wanted it or not, he was slowly beginning to care for Stiles.

~*~

Stiles didn’t really know why he was coming anymore. Derek was so much better now; he didn’t really need Stiles to visit so often. He found himself making excuses to come, bringing up leftovers to make sure Derek was eating, collecting his washing, things the Alpha could have done for himself if he chose.

He was worried though, Derek had come through something life-changing, he needed to talk about it, but Stiles couldn’t convince him to open up to anyone, not even Scott. Then there was the fact that the Alpha was still hiding in the basement, almost afraid to face the world outside. He perked up whenever Stiles was around, and that was a good thing, but it wasn’t enough. The man clearly had issues, and as much as Stiles wasn’t going to get all touchy-feely about it, he knew Derek needed more help than he could give. The Alpha was still angry, still on edge, and Stiles was worried he might fall back into old habits if they didn‘t work it out. 

“There’s this… thing” Stiles paused from collecting the dirty clothes into a bag, rubbing the heel of his hand through the short hair at the back of his head “it’s called transference.”

Derek gritted his teeth, “I know about _fucking_ transference, Stiles.”

“Uh, then you know that it happens sometimes, you get past one addiction, your feelings can be uh…”

“Trans-fucking-ferred?” Derek’s body was weakened by the aconite poisoning but he was still so much stronger than Stiles. His skin was cool and clammy, and his grip was like steel on Stiles’ arm. “And you think I’m going to get addicted to what exactly?”

Stiles was pinned by more than just Derek’s body holding him against the wall, the Alpha’s eyes glowed red from under dark, knitted brows. “I…uh…” He swallowed and looked down, before forcing himself to face the man, one deep breath and he found the courage to say it, “I think you’re transferring the need… I think you’re addicted to me.” He didn’t want to say it, but he’d always been one for babbling without thinking, “I think you need help. You haven’t dealt with it all, whatever it was that made you do it…”

The growl started low in Derek’s throat and, not for the first time, Stiles was truly afraid of the beast inside Derek Hale. The Alpha’s teeth flashed in the dim light as they lengthened, he let go of Stiles’ arm and thrust both fists into the wall above Stiles’ head. Through a mouth full of too many long, sharp teeth, Derek grunted “You need to leave.”

Stiles was free, but he was surprised to realize that he didn’t want to leave Derek like this. He rubbed his arm, where Derek’ grip had bruised the skin, “I don’t think that’s a good-”

“Get **out**!” 

Derek was serious, and Stiles could see that he was having trouble keeping the change at bay. He slipped away from Derek’ body just as the wolf took over, escaping the room with a clawed shirt and scratched skin serving as yet another reminder of the monster living in the old Hale house. He scrambled out of the front door, down the steps of the porch, and made it to the edge of the woods before the cool blanket of shock set in and he slumped against a tree, mind already shutting out the thoughts of what could have happened if he’d stayed. He remembered fleeing the house the first time Scott had brought him there to help Derek. Could that really have been such a short time ago? Already he wanted to go back in. He was afraid, but the fear was secondary to something else, something compelling him to get back in there and _help_ the man.

~*~

Scott kept an eye on Derek’s recovery as much as he could, but his new responsibilities within the pack along with the fact that he was failing half his classes meant that he couldn’t spend a lot of time over at the Hale house. He made sure Stiles kept him updated though, and he visited as often as he could.

He’d noticed Stiles was spending more and more time with Derek, even on his bad days, and there were plenty of those. There was something neither of them were telling Scott, he was certain of it. But short of outright asking Stiles what was going on he couldn’t seem to pry it out of either of them. He could use the ‘friends don’t keep secrets’ card but Stiles would just laugh in his face, considering how often Scott had to skirt around the truth with everyone in his own life. 

It wasn’t until Stiles started cutting classes that Scott realized he really had to step in. It was just one or two classes, nothing major; if it was anyone else Scott wouldn’t have even noticed. But Stiles had never been one for skipping school, Scott couldn’t help worrying.

“Where were you this afternoon?” The line was crackly but Scott had plenty of reception. Which meant Stiles was either in the woods on his way back or still in the basement with Derek? From the way he kept lowering his voice Scott guessed that he was still with Derek. It was pointless reminding him about Derek’s super-sensitive hearing, he’d still try and whisper.

“Uh, I was… busy.” It came to something when Stiles couldn’t even think of some snappy, witty comment to diffuse the situation.

Scott sighed, “Busy, huh? Too busy for the history test? Too busy for Lacrosse practice?” He heard Stiles cursing quietly but vehemently, “I wonder what could be more important. So important you’d forget about Lacrosse.”

He could practically hear Stiles rubbing his hands over his short hair, “Just… shit, Scott you know where I am, and you know why I’m here. Why do you have to make me say it? Is this some kind of sadistic game? You like making me feel like this?”

He shook his head, even though Stiles couldn’t see it, “You have to say it sometime, Stiles. Just wanna hear you admit it to yourself.” He said goodbye as he got closer to work, and let Stiles get back to whatever he was doing over at Derek’s. He hoped work would take his mind off it all, although he knew he’d have to really have it out with Stiles soon enough.

~*~

It took Stiles another week of visits to persuade Derek up and out of the basement. It was a process of coaxing, teasing and downright begging that finally yielded results. Once Derek was fully back above ground Stiles locked up the basement and kept hold of the key. A determined werewolf could easily get back down there, but he hoped that the fact it was locked up would at least make Derek think twice about it.

At first he shied away from the light that streamed through the gaps in the curtains, so unused to the brightness that it hurt his eyes. Stiles had almost begun to forget about Derek’s heightened senses, had almost forgotten what the Alpha was. Derek had his outbursts from time to time, but since the time Stiles had had to flee the basement he’d steadily improved on pretty much a daily basis. He was completely clean of wolfsbane now, and his moods were much more stable. In fact, it seemed that the more Stiles visited, the calmer Derek was. Even to the point where Stiles had cautiously risked hugging the guy to say hello and goodbye

He didn’t come from a big family of huggers. Really it was just him and his dad, and the sheriff had always been more of a pat on the back kind of man, unless he was particularly happy or worried about Stiles. There was just something about wrapping his arms around Derek and squeezing tight, even if just for a second, that made him a little bit happier. A little bit less worried about leaving him alone in the big, dreary old house.

And sometimes, sometimes Derek hugged back.

It was tentative at first, just one arm slipping up to awkwardly pat Stiles on the back. Another time both arms patting him, and then a light squeeze back. There were still days when the Alpha didn’t seem to want company, he was an anti-social creature at heart, and he couldn’t seem to get Stiles out of there fast enough. Then there were the days when Stiles let go first and Derek was almost clinging, although neither of them would have ever used that word. Still, that was the only word that described the way he would keep hold of Stiles’ body past the point where most would have let go.

~*~

Derek paced the floor of the parlour. The room was dark and in a state of disrepair, it had once been full of family photos and treasures but was now nothing more than a burnt out shell, half empty except for the thrift store furniture he’d shoved in to make the place liveable. Stiles was late. That combined the fact that he was starting to feel claustrophobic in the house had him edgy.

He could have gone out, but he knew Stiles would be on his way over, should have already been there. It wouldn’t have bothered him before, he’d have just gone out anyway, fuck the kid, if he wanted to be late then so be it. But things were different now. Derek could still feel the pack, each of them connected to him in their own way, but Stiles was a pack all on his own, he and Scott were Derek’s chosen pack. They weren’t his blood or bitten, but they were his family all the same. 

The door opened and slammed, and Derek realized he’d been so busy thinking of his little pack that he hadn’t heard Stiles coming like normal. There was something about the way the door slammed just a little too hard that let him know it was Stiles out there in the hall. Plus the beating of his heart and the scent that drifted to him now, letting him know that this was no intruder, this was one who was welcome. That scent had changed now too. Even on Derek’s worst days there was not a hint of fear to be found in Stiles. He was stronger, better, calmer. Derek would have been jealous, if he wasn’t getting better himself.

Stiles’ school bag thanked against the floorboards and he was in the room in two long strides, throwing his arms around Derek as if he hadn’t seen him for a week. He brought in the outdoor chill on his clothes, and the skin of his cheek was cool against Derek’s neck, but the touch was more than welcome. Pride kept him from squeezing Stiles too tight, but he gave as good as he got, and pretended to scowl just a little for the sake of it.

It had been a long time since Stiles had had to come there to clean the place up and really do anything for Derek, now he just brought groceries and sometimes leftovers so Derek didn’t starve. Mostly he was there for some company, and after he’d given Derek the skinny on what was happening around town, news on the pack, and lots of random gossip that he didn’t really need to know, they usually just hung out together. Weird as that was for Derek.

The couch was threadbare but so old that it was really soft. Derek usually sat on the edge because he didn‘t like falling too deeply into the cushions, it made getting up look like too much of a chore. Stiles just threw himself down so hard that the couch usually moved back a couple of inches each time and Derek had to pull it back out when he left. He was a tangle of arms and legs, and today he looked like he had something to say. Derek knew if he waited long enough it would eventually come out whether Stiles meant to say it or not, and he wasn’t wrong.

“You know, when this first started, me coming over to help Scott look after you, I… I told him to just leave you to it.” He couldn’t seem to look Derek in the eye even though they were sat almost facing each other on the couch.

This wasn’t the great revelation that Stiles seemed to think it was. Derek considered saying nothing and letting Stiles get it off his chest, but after a second or two with nothing further from Stiles, he had to speak, “I know. I think maybe that’s what I wanted. To be left alone to die.”

“Why?” Stiles’ voice held unexpected heat.

Derek’s fingers found Stiles’ and wrapped around them, this was hard to say. “Didn’t think I was worth it.” He could feel the heat of Stiles’ knee where it almost touched his own.

Stiles met his gaze, and there were tears pooling in the boy’s eyes. From the flare of his nostrils and the way Stiles swallowed, Derek could tell he was fighting not to let them spill. “You would have left them all? Just like that. Your pack. Your friends. They meant nothing to you?” He tried to pull his hand away, but Derek’s grip was tight.

“I thought they were better off without me.” 

The tears were falling now, and Derek had to resist the urge to brush them away, had to pretend he hadn’t noticed. “What about me?” Stiles looked down at their clasped hands.

“You’d still be much better off without me.” He let his thumb draw circles over the back of Stiles’ hand. “I wouldn’t blame you if you got up and walked out right now. Everything good I’ve ever had in my life… I’ve destroyed it. I can’t do that to you. Can‘t let you get hurt. You should be with someone else, someone who‘d be good for you.”

Stiles pulled back his hand, tears drying, cheeks flushed, “You want me to leave?” Derek paused; it was a beat too long, though. Stiles took it badly, shoving himself quickly up onto his feet. “Fine. If you don’t want me here, I’ll go.”

Stiles turned to leave and Derek reacted without thinking, he grabbed Stiles’ arm and pulled him a little too hard. It wasn’t his werewolf strength kicking in, just instinct making him reach out for the one thing he needed most. Stiles fell back to the couch, his body weight forcing Derek back into the too soft cushions as he landed half on top of Derek and half on the couch itself. He was in Derek’s arms and there was no way of pretending that Derek didn’t want him there. No need to pretend when his lips were so close and his skin was warm against Derek’s own. His gaze was focused on Derek‘s mouth, and his heartbeat was frantically loud in Derek‘s ears. 

Derek couldn’t be sure which of them closed the gap, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the way Stiles lips parted quickly, the way he tasted like apple juice and mint, and the way he made little happy noises when Derek slowly slid his tongue inside his mouth.

~*~

“Don’t go.” It was whispered quietly enough that Stiles could almost doubt whether he’d heard it at all. His head rested on Derek’s chest, one of Derek’s arms was wrapped around his shoulders, the other hand rested on Stiles’ hip. They were sprawled on the couch together and somewhere in the hallway Stiles’ phone just kept going off.

Whatever it was, it could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be NC17 but ultimately Derek just wasn't quite ready for some hot man-love, and frankly Stiles just wouldn't take advantage of him that way. Also apologies for how long this took to do, my wonderful beta Laraneia had to kick my butt to get me back into gear after Christmas hols!


End file.
